A Spirits Day Song
by Saucebender
Summary: Inspired by a favorite Christmas story. It's from Ozai's point of view, but is about the gang as well. There will be some Zutara sprinkled in, and Sukka too I think.
1. Chapter 1

**The Spirit Day Song**

**Chapter 1**

**Hi everybody! I know some of you are probably wondering why I haven't been working on Dream Benders. I have, but this story was swimming around in my head and I had to write it down. And I thought now would be the perfect time for it! Can you guess where I got the idea for this story from? The first person who reviews and knows where the idea came from will get… something. I don't know what yet. Probably just a virtual high-five! **

**This story is set about a year and a half after the end of the war. It is an Ozai story and is mostly from his point of view, but Zuko and his friends will be included. **

The former Fire Lord sat alone on the floor of his cell. He couldn't believe how cold it was tonight. It was never this cold in the Fire Nation, even in the depths of winter. Of course, the cold wouldn't have bothered him if that little bald brat hadn't taken away his firebending. Ozai would have rather had the Avatar kill him than do this. Sure, it would have been just as humiliating. Being beaten and killed by a child was just as bad as having the child beat you and take away your bending, but at least then he wouldn't have to live with the humiliation. Or the cold. Ozai hated the cold.

The prisoner's thoughts were interrupted when the door to the room that held his cell opened. A tall, broad shouldered man wearing a blue and white fur parka stepped into the room and closed the door. It took Ozai a moment to figure out who the man was, and when he did he wasn't sure whether to laugh or be sick.

"Honestly, what sort of Fire Lord would be caught dead wearing the clothing of a filthy Water Tribe peasant?" Ozai's voice was hoarse from lack of use, but still as condescending as ever towards the young man he now commonly referred to as _The Traitor_.

"A cold one," was Zuko's only response as he lit a flame in his hand and glanced around the room. There was about ten feet between the outer door and the cell bars. On the outside of the cell was a chair and small table for visitors, though the only visitor Ozai had ever had was Zuko, and the boy never sat down.

"Very well, but why blue? You couldn't find any black furs? Or red ones?"

"This was an early Spirits Day gift from a friend, and I like it the way it is. The animals in the South Pole only have white, blue or light gray fur. It's the warmest fur in the world and this parka was made by three of the Southern Tribe's most talented women."

"Wonderful. The Fire Lord is now wearing the latest in Southern Peasant style." Ozai's voice was dripping with sarcasm and he rolled his eyes as he spoke. "I'm sure my citizens are delighted with their current leader's treasonous choice of outerwear."

"Actually, _my_citizens love these furs so much that we have negotiated a trade agreement with the Southern Tribe. We import the pelts so that they can me made into parkas and coats by the people who made our military uniforms during the war. I was given a few of the first fur coats made in the Fire Nation so I could inspect them and give my approval. I could get you one if you'd like." Zuko knew his father would never wear anything that wasn't red and black and made during his own reign. He only offered because he was in a miserable mood and knew it would push Ozai's buttons, which might be a little entertaining.

"I would sooner die of hypothermia then wear that peasant-trash clothing. And if the people of this nation are wearing it, then you can go right ahead and have them. They disgust me almost as much as you do." Ozai watched as Zuko lit the table lamp before leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. The boy never really spoke to him like this, why was he doing it now? "Why are you really here today? This isn't one of your scheduled _'where's my mom?'_ visits, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to wish you a Merry Spirits Eve." Zuko stood away from the wall and walked towards the cell, stopping a few feet away. When his father didn't respond, he took a package out of his parka and stepped forward to put it on the floor inside the cell. He didn't step back when he spoke again. "I brought you a present. It's a blanket. I found it at the palace and thought you might need it since it's so cold this evening. And don't worry, it's not blue."

Ozai looked from Zuko to the package and back again. Was the boy really that stupid? Did Zuko think he could _bribe_ his father into telling him where Ursa was? With a _blanket_? The poor kid was really scraping the bottom of the interrogation-technique barrel now. He ignored the gift and resumed his sarcastic tone.

"How nice of you. And now I suppose _you'd_like a gift also? Well sadly, I haven't really had a chance to get out and do much shopping this holiday season. I've had so much housecleaning to do, I'm expecting a lot of company tomorrow. Why don't you stop by for dinner? I'm making roast turducken, and soup dumplings and fish with coconut rice, dragon heart salad, and of course my favorite, leopard-shark tar-tar. Oh, and fruit tarts and caramelized custards for dessert."

"That's OK," Zuko said as he went back to leaning against the wall. "There's really only one thing I want from you and I doubt I'll ever get it, even on a holiday that's supposed to be about love and family and togetherness." The young man watched his father, waiting for him to open his present, though he didn't expect him to. The two men regarded each other for a moment before the older one spoke.

"Speaking of family, where's yours? I mean, where is the ridiculous group of pathetic misfits that you _call_ a family? It's Spirits Eve, why are you here with the man who hates you the most in this world when you can be at the palace celebrating the holiday with those who _love_ you?"

Zuko didn't rise to his father's dig, he knew the man thought love was a worthless emotion. He simply answered the question in a board tone as he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards the door. "My friends aren't here this year, and Uncle's boat hasn't arrived yet. I'll leave you now. I have a lot to do still to prepare for the Spirits Day celebration tomorrow. Merry Spirits Day, enjoy your gift."

With that the young Fire Lord left the cell, closing the door quietly behind him.

**I know this is kind of short, but I wanted to get this started. In case anyone was wondering, Spirits Day is kind of like the Avatarverse's big holiday. It's meant to be kind of like Christmas. I hope I made that part obvious. I don't know if I'm going to get into detail about what the holiday really is, because I'm not sure myself. It's a celebration of the birth of the first avatar, _not_a celebration of Aang. In fact, it really has nothing to do with Aang. He'll show up in the story, but just briefly.**

**I would really like to know what you all think about this story. I'm going to complete it even if no one likes it, but I would love some input. I have seen a lot of Fan Art depicting the gAang during the holidays, but haven't read many stories, so I made one up. Please don't disregard this just because it's about Ozai. The other characters will all show up, and I promise there will be some Zutara thrown in too!**

**I also wanted to mention that a lot of the dishes Ozai mentioned are from Fandomme's story, Stormbenders. Except for the Turducken. Can anyone guess what it is? I'm not sure if it's real or not. I'm from Upstate New York and when I lived in North Carolina a few years ago, some of the people I worked with told me that they had Turducken for Thanksgiving. They might have been cranking my chain, but it sounded like a great Avatarverse food!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Spirits Day Song**

**Chapter 2**

**I thought I would have this up sooner, sorry.**

**I do not own Avatar.**

Ozai stared at the door for a while, thinking about how much he would have liked to roast the filthy traitor alive just then. The boy could have just ordered the guards to give him another one of those ratty old prison blankets for the night. Ozai stood up and walked to the corner of the cell. He sat himself down on the only thing in the room that could pass as furniture, an old sleeping mat. He lay down and silently cursed the disgusting accommodations. The mat was so thin that he could feel the cold seeping through it from the floor below. He tossed and turned for half an hour before rolling over to look at the gift his filthy spawn had brought him. Then he defiantly flipped onto his other side and closed his eyes. He thought about the package, wondering for just a moment why Zuko had bothered to waist a good palace blanket on him. Since Ozai had been thrown in here, Zuko had never given him a single provision that wasn't meant strictly for prisoners. Ozai smiled slightly, giving himself a silent, "way to go." During his own reign, he had made sure his prisoners were as miserable as absolutely possible. And he had done a wonderful job, as he had learned on his first night here, almost eighteen months ago.

_Even the lowest realms of the Spirit World couldn't be as bad as this place._

Again his thoughts turned back to the package on the floor across the cell. There was no way he would give that brat the satisfaction of knowing he had used the blanket. Out of habit, he cupped his hands over his mouth and blew into them. His breath warmed his hands just enough to remind him _**again**_ that he couldn't bend. He curled up into a ball and spewed out a long string of colorful expletives that, in his opinion, perfectly described that treasonous son of a…

Without finishing that particular thought, he rolled back towards the blanket. Maybe it was one of his own royal bed coverings? No, Zuko surely had all of those burned as soon as he stole the throne from Princess Azula. But whichever blanket it was, it had to be warmer than the tattered, moth-bat eaten rag he was covering up with now. With a sigh, Ozai stood and walked to the neatly wrapped gift. It even had a bow, pathetic. And… a scroll? Curiosity finally got the better of him and he picked up the present, noticing that the words, 'To: Ozai' were written on the outside of the little tube. He unfastened it without taking it off of the wrapping and pulled out the tiny scroll. Upon unrolling it, he gave a mirthless chuckle at the blatant irony that greeted him. The words weren't even written in Zuko's hand:

_**Merry Spirits Day.**_

_**Wishing you all the best this joyful holiday season.**_

_**From: Fire Lord Zuko**_

He read the lines once more before shaking his head and sliding the scroll back into it's tube. Ozai had begun having his own servants sign Zuko and Azula's Spirits Day presents the same way after… well, after he had become Fire Lord. Azulon had done the same thing with Iroh and Ozai's gifts. It was to teach the children to respect their father's position as their leader and their lord. But, as with everything else, Zuko must have taken it personally. It was these pathetic emotions that always made him weak.

The fallen Fire Lord turned the still-wrapped blanket over in his hands, contemplating whether to open it. If he did it without tearing the parchment he could always rewrap it before The Traitor came back. Zuko would never know. Having made a decision, Ozai slid the twine carefully off the package and slowly removed the fancy paper.

It took only a moment for his brain to register what he was holding in his hands. His mind was flooded, first with memories, then with emotions. He settled on the emotion he was most comfortable with, hatred, and tossed the blanket to the floor. He threw a half-hearted punch towards the blanket, knowing that nothing would happen. He just needed to make it clear to himself that he would have torched that damned blanket in a heartbeat, had he been able. Ozai stood, staring at the blanket and trying to block the memories from his mind. Then he kicked it across the cell, stumbled backwards a few steps and sat ungracefully on his mat.

Ozai regarded the blanket for a few moments with an expression of both disgust and nervousness. It had been a gift, given to then-_Prince_ Ozai by his wife, Ursa, on Spirits Day Morning fourteen years ago. She had selected only the highest quality, imported alpaca-spider's wool and assisted her servants in spinning and dying it. Then she used the strong, fine yarn to painstakingly crochet the blanket, creating an exact replica of their family portrait. The image on the blanket was as crisp and clear as the painting that had hung in the grand foyer of the palace.

Prince Ozai had been scheduled to leave the Fire Nation the next week to travel with Azulon's Royal Navy. It was going to be his first extended tour since Zuko's birth and Princess Ursa was afraid he would miss the children. She made Ozai the blanket hoping it would help him keep the homesickness at bay. It hadn't done a great job, he still missed his family terribly, but it did keep him warm. When he arrived home he kept the blanket draped over a blanket stand in his bedroom and he continued to use it on cold nights. It was large enough for him and his wife to snuggle together underneath it. For the next six years the blanket traveled with Ozai whenever he left his family for long periods of time, and hung in his room when he was at the palace. Then, on that fateful night when Ursa ended Azulon's life to save her son's, the blanket disappeared along with her. Ozai had assumed she took it with her. He never expected to see it again. Where it had been for the past eight years, and how Zuko had found it was beyond Ozai's comprehension. He wondered for a moment if Zuko was trying tell him something. Had Ursa come back? Was she at the palace right now? Ozai shook the thought from his head. If Ursa had come back and, spirits forbid, saw Zuko's face, her wrath would be inescapable.

Ozai tried denying to himself that this _wasn't_ the reason he was keeping her whereabouts from Zuko. He told himself that both Ursa and Zuko had committed treason and were lucky not to have been killed for their crimes. They both deserved to be punished severely, and keeping them apart was the worst punishment Ozai could think of. He refused to admit, even to himself, that he was simply trying to prevent Ursa from finding out about the things he had done to Zuko in her absence. He was certain she wouldn't take kindly to the fact that he had so blatantly broken his promise to her, especially when she had given up everything she had as part of her promise to him.

Ursa had kept her promise, and Ozai knew that she would continue to do so. Honor was just as important to her as it was to Zuko, and that honor would keep her from returning home until she was summoned by the Fire Lord. And as long as Zuko didn't know how to find her, he couldn't call her back.

Convinced that the blanket was not meant to herald his wife's return, Ozai turned away from it and laid down. Ursa wasn't here. She hadn't returned home on Spirits Eve, handed her son an old blanket and told him to bring it to his father's prison cell. She wasn't going to show up here later tonight and take revenge on her husband for what he had done to her son. The blanket meant nothing. However the traitor had come to possess it, he was obviously just using it to try to weaken Ozai's resolve. But the former Fire Lord was not weak, as he had once been. The emotions he had felt all those years ago had proven worthless and dangerous. They had threatened to keep him from the throne. Ozai had never thought about becoming Fire Lord until Lu Ten died, but that didn't matter. Once the idea crossed his mind he became obsessed, and all those emotions might have kept him from reaching that goal. Whatever he may have felt for his family when he was younger was gone now. Love was an emotion for lesser men, men who didn't have the future of an entire nation on their heads.

Ozai knew that he had been directly responsible for the event that ignited the slow-burning destruction of his family, but he refused to be faulted for their weakness. The children got it from their mother, who had most likely inherited it from her traitorous grandfather. If Ursa hadn't coddled them so much they would have been stronger, especially Zuko. His disgraceful firebending ability had been a source of embarrassment for Ozai, even before he took the throne. Zuko was extremely bright however, and this was an immense source of pride for his father. But whenever Ozai tried to show off Zuko's remarkable intelligence, the boy's complete lack of self confidence would cause him to freeze up, giving his sister the perfect chance to steal the spotlight. At first Ozai hadn't bothered much with Azula, convinced that his first born son would be his golden child. After all, the boy was smart and determined and articulate. And Zuko looked so much like Ozai. He was such a handsome child. But he was also soft, like his mother. He hated to see other people hurting, hated to see the innocent being used or taken advantage of or eliminated, no matter how it might benefit his family or his country. So in the end it was not Zuko, but Azula who had won the favor of their father. She was everything Ozai had wanted Zuko to be, a firebending prodigy, a confident military strategist, and a cold-blooded fighter with a killer instinct. Then, after all those years of seeming like Ozai's ideal heir, Azula lost her mind and allowed herself to be beaten by a filthy waterbending peasant. Why? Because her _emotions_ got in the way! All those years of pretending to be as cold and calculating as Ozai were nothing but an act. In the end she turned out to be just as sensitive and weak as her brother, maybe even more so. At least Zuko used his weakness to his advantage and was now sitting on the throne.

Ozai had hoped that, after Ursa left, Zuko and Azula would be forced to learn to fend for themselves. And in a way it seemed to work. Especially for Azula. But then Iroh showed up and devoted all of his time to caring for his niece and nephew. Azula shut him out, as she did with everyone after her mother left. But Zuko thrived on his uncle's doting, taking every chance he could to learn anything Iroh was willing to teach him.

_Iroh._

Iroh's weakness was to blame for all of Ozai's trouble. If Iroh hadn't demanded that Lu Ten be stationed with his battalion so he could keep an eye on him, then the poor boy might have survived the war. And if Iroh had taken revenge on the Earthbenders who killed his son and simply burned Ba Sing Se to the ground, instead of crumbling and crawling away like a coward, it might never have occurred to Ozai to request that his father grant him the throne. _And_ if Iroh had respected the fact that Zuko was too young to be allowed in that war meeting, than the prince would never have spoken out against the general, and therefore would never have ended up scarred and banished. If Zuko hadn't been banished, he never would have developed the idea that the Fire Nation was wrong for continuing this war, would never have joined the Avatar, and would never have taken part in Ozai's defeat.

There was nothing left of the family whose image still graced that blanket. The fragile threads holding them together had unraveled long ago. Now, all that remained were the frayed and tattered souls of four people whose lives had been destroyed by a long history of greed, violence and corruption.

Ozai certainly did not miss the people on that blanket. In fact, those people shamed and disgusted him. He was better off after his wife left. He no longer had to worry about the distractions a beautiful woman offered, especially one who was as in love as she had once been. He had been a stronger Fire Lord without having to bend to his wife's influence or worry about neglecting her needs.

He glanced over his shoulder and spared the offending blanket a final look before turning back and listening to the wind whistling through the cracks in the prison walls. It was easy, on nights like these, to image that the broken souls of those who had been sentenced to this horrid place were still here, still crying out to past Fire Lords for mercy. Ozai could almost hear them, men and women whose lives had ended inside these walls, either by execution or suicide, or "natural causes." (Because when prisoners here cross the guards too often, they usually wind up dead, naturally.)

Ozai was chilled to bone as he lay shivering in his cold, damp cell, but he refused to get the blanket. He had told Zuko that he would rather freeze to death than wear a filthy Water Tribe parka, but he drifted off to sleep thinking that maybe the parka wasn't such a bad idea.

**A/N: Sorry if Ozai seems a little OC in this chapter. In Zuko alone, when Zuko asks Ozai where Ursa is, Ozai's body language suggests that he is genuinely sad about something. I like to believe that he, on some level, regrets what happened. Much of this story is going to be my own personal take on Ozai's life. Be warned, I'm an optimist.**

**Hey! I wanted to congratulate crazyzukofangirl1280 for being the only one so far who knows what Christmas story I am (very loosely) basing this story off of! Anyone else want to guess? **

**I really thought I had more to say here, but I forgot what it was. Oh well! I don't think this is going to be done before Christmas, sorry. I hope you all stick with me anyway. And don't lose faith in Dream Benders. I promise I'll have chapter 4 out soon. It's almost all written, I just need to clean it up.**

**I feel kind of desperate asking for reviews, but I never knew how much they meant until I started writing my own stories. So... please? Even if it's just that I spelled something wrong or you think that a character wouldn't say something the way I wrote it, K? Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A Spirits Day Song**

**Chapter 3**

**A/N: OK, I'm sorry this took so long. The real holidays got in the way. The next chapter is going to take a while too, I think. I haven't started writing it yet. I have the next chapter of Dream Benders about half done and the two stories keep switching spots at the top of my To-Do list. Sorry, it's the ADD. But please don't give up on me.**

**I do not own Avatar.**

Ozai woke a short time later, but wasn't sure what had disturbed his sleep. His eyes were drawn to the door of his cell, though not by a noise or a movement. It was more of a _sense_, a feeling that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and compelled him to look. When he did, a man began to materialize in front of the door, as though he had somehow just floated through it. And it was a man he knew.

The former Fire Lord could not believe his eyes. Standing there in his cell, not three feet away, was his most highly decorated officer, an admiral who had achieved more in his military career than any other officer during Ozai's rule. His first thought was that the man was here to break him out, but his hopes were squashed quickly as his mind began to grasp a few certain facts. The first was that this prison was virtually impenetrable. No one had ever broken in, and only one man had ever broken out.

The second was that, even if it was possible for someone to break him out, there was no one left to do so. The vast majority of Ozai's followers had only done so out of fear and those who were truly loyal to him had either fought to the death, or been captured in the days following the comet.

The third, and most important fact, was that this man had been dead for almost two years. He died during a battle in the North Pole, killed not by the Water Tribe, but by the Ocean Spirit as revenge for slaying the Spirit's mate. His body was never found, but eyewitness reports had been enough to convince Ozai that the man should receive the Flaming Heart, the highest award given by the Fire Nation military. It was a Medal of Honor, meant to symbolize great sacrifice for one's country. The recipients of the Flaming Heart were usually dead, having given their own lives to protect their fellow countrymen. That was the case with the man whose ghost now stood before the uncharacteristically nervous prisoner.

The admiral's appearance was terrifying. For starters, he was obviously an apparition. Ozai could see right through his body, which didn't really seem to touch the ground. As the man stepped in the direction of his former Fire Lord, his body simply floated forward. He was wearing his full dress uniform, complete with his many ribbons and awards, and his Flaming Heart was given the position of honor. It was pinned to the left side of his uniform, directly over his real heart. Or, over the spot where his heart would have been, if he were a living person. It looked to Ozai like the Medal of Honor was burning into the phantom's ghostly chest. A silvery liquid that Ozai guessed might be blood continually seeped out from behind the medal and oozed down the front of his blouse.

As gruesome as it was, there was more, and to a Firebender the rest was even worse. The ghost appeared to be wet. There was water dripping from his hair and clothes that pooled on the ground around his feet, but never really accumulated. There was dirt on his uniform as well, and every so often he seemed to be blown backwards by a gust of wind, though Ozai could feel no breeze. There was a chain around the specter's waist, but the links were not made of steel. The majority of them were made of water or ice, but there were also some made of rock and dirt. One or two were nearly invisible, being made of air, and Ozai even spotted a few made of flames. The chain wound about the specter several times, then trailed off behind him and was attached at the other end to a large, floating block of ice. As he float-walked around Ozai's cell he had to constantly stop and pull his leg forward to drag the ice along with him, leaving a trail of frost in his wake. Occasionally he would stop to sit on the ice block so that he could take off his boots and shake stones out of them.

As much as Ozai wanted to believe he was dreaming, he somehow knew that he was not. He wondered if his time in prison had finally caused him to lose his mind.

"Who are you? Why are here?"

The ghost didn't answer at first, but merely shook its head.

"Answer me!" Ozai demanded. "What do you want with me?"

"Much!" Though the ghost spoke only one word, Ozai recognized the voice instantly. There was no doubt who it was.

"Who are you?" Ozai already knew the answer, but he was having trouble believing his senses. Perhaps something in his dinner had gone bad and was causing him to hallucinate.

"Ask me who I was."

"Fine. Who _were_ you?"

"You know who I was, Ozai. Many of these ribbons, along with my final promotion were bestowed upon me by you, personally."

Finally Ozai gave in. "Admiral Zhao."

"Yes, Ozai. How have you been?" The ghost glanced around the cell as if this was just a typical friendly visit and not, as was Ozai's opinion, the most bizarre situation in which he had ever found himself. "Are you enjoying your new accommodations? The bed looks quite comfy."

"How is this possible Zhao? I was told you were dead. Was it a lie? Were you helping Zuko this whole time? Did he send you here?"

"Oh no, I'm really dead. The stories you heard were mostly true, although I have to admit I was painted in a rather inaccurate light. I'm not the hero I once believed myself to be. My death was not a sacrifice made for the good of my fellow countrymen. It was nothing more than my last act of stupidity and pride. The spirits really dislike pride Ozai, you should be warned. Your son tried to save me, did you know? After everything I had done to him. Even after I hired those pirates to kill him, Zuko found the strength to forgive me and offer his help in my time of need. And I refused it." Zhao's voice was full of remorse, an emotion Ozai had never heard from him before.

"I'm sure he had his reasons, Zhao. He most likely did not want to be denied the chance to kill you himself." Ozai had heard the story of Zhao's death many times, but not once had he heard that Zuko tried to save him. He also had not been aware that Admiral Zhao had tried to kill Zuko, and the news did not sit well with him. Banished or not, Zuko was still the Crown Prince at the time and taking his life would have been more than murder, it would have been the assassination of a Royal Family member. In light of the current situation though, Ozai chose to let it go. He had other thoughts on his mind anyway. He could not understand why Zhao seemed to have such a high opinion of a man he, not two years before, tried to have killed.

"I doubt it, Ozai," Zhao said, interrupting his thoughts. "Zuko can be hot-headed and quick-tempered, but he is not a killer. And I was not sent here to discuss your son. I've come here tonight to give you a warning. As frightening as my death may have seemed to those who witnessed it, it wasn't nearly as terrible as my afterlife has been." As Zhao's ghost spoke, he rattled his chains loudly. Ozai was surprised that the links held strong, given the apparent weakness of the materials from which most of them were made.

"That's an interesting chain. Was it a gift?" Ozai tried to hide his fear with sarcasm, but could feel himself failing miserably.

"I forged this chain myself and will wear it for the rest of eternity," the ghost answered. "I made it link by link of my own free will when I was alive, and wore it proudly. Now though, I wear it in shame. You can't honestly tell me that you don't recognize its pattern, can you?"

Ozai studied the ghost's chain. He knew very well what it was made of, and what each of the links represented.

"I wonder Ozai, how strong and heavy your own fetter might be? It was twice as large as this when I died two years ago and you have continued to work hard at it. You have even managed to add a few more links since you, uh… took up your current residence."

The former Fire Lord could feel his courage waning. Try as he may, he could not stop himself from glancing down, half expecting to find fifty or sixty fathoms of chain coiling around his body.

"How many of your links do you think would belong to members of your own family, Ozai?"

"How dare you?" Ozai stood up, regaining a bit of his usual rage at Zhao's last words. "You were no better in life than I am, you have no right to judge me!"

"That's true Ozai. I have no right to judge you at all. I was sent here however, by those who do have that right."

"Who would that be, exactly? And what did they want you to tell me? That they don't approve of my behavior? That I have upset them simply by following in the footsteps of my forefathers?" Despite his mocking tone, Ozai secretly wondered if it was wise to speak in such a way. But he refused to show his fear. "Do you have any good news for me?"

"None at all. Good news is given by other types of beings, to other types of men. I spent my entire life traveling this world, spreading hatred and death. I especially chose as my victims those who fought for peace. I saw them as weak, but I had no idea what real strength is. Now I'm cursed to spend the rest of eternity traveling the path I chose in life and witnessing both the horror I caused, and that which I could have prevented."

Ozai was thoughtful for a moment before replying. "Surely Zhao, that won't take forever. You were only one man. Any damage you caused will be repaired within the lifetime of the people you hurt."

"I wish that were true, but the actions of mortals reach much farther than they could imagine." Again the ghost shook his chains, as if they had created his evil deeds, instead of the other way around. Then he told Ozai about a young Firebender he murdered less than a year before his death. Zhao had believed him to be a traitor, but the worst crime the man had committed was falling in love with an Earthbender. The man was on his way home to see his pregnant wife when Zhao took his life. After a few weeks of searching for her husband and finding no sign of him, the woman assumed that he had begun to regret marrying an Earthbender. She believed that he abandoned her and their unborn child.

As punishment for his hateful act, Zhao must watch the devastation it has caused. The dead man's son is destined to grow up thinking his mother's inaccurate assumptions about his father's disappearance are true. He will end up hating his father for leaving him and hating the Fire Nation for putting such prejudiced ideals in the man's head. Worse yet, after years of seeing his own amber eyes in the mirror and feeling the fire in his blood, he will come to hate himself. Eventually, the boy will have his own son, and will not feel competent or deserving enough to be a father. He will walk out on his own wife and baby, destroying two more lives. All of this is destined to happen, Zhao said, simply because he allowed his own hatred to guide his actions.

"I have already been told what is to happen to the people left behind by the man I killed. As their miserable lives unfold, I will be forced to watch, but will be helpless to stop it or change it in any way. It is the perfect form of personal torture. And there are so many other lives I destroyed. I muddied the names of five Fire Sages in my frustration at not capturing the Avatar, and I destroyed their temple. I imprisoned and threatened a twelve-year-old boy to further my career. I led that siege on the North Pole. Thousands of my troops and who knows how many Water Tribe citizens lost their lives that day, all because of me. The chief of the Northern Water Tribe lost his only daughter. He will never have grandchildren, there will be no one to pass his title to.

"Mark my words, Ozai. If you continue on the path you walk now, there will be no one to pass the Fire Crown to either." Ozai gave an undignified snort at the idea that he might actually _want_ Zuko, or even Azula to have a chance to pass on their pathetic weaknesses, but Zhao cut him short. "You may not be concerned about that right now, but that will change."

There was a brief silence while Ozai studied the ghost, wondering if it were worth arguing about. He decided it wasn't.

"Zhao, you were a military man," Ozai said in defense of his old friend. "You were doing your job. You can't be blamed for the things your commanding officers ordered you to do. It wasn't your business to judge them, it was only your business to follow their commands."

"Business! Mercy should have been my business. Peace should have been my business. The welfare of _those less fortunate _should have been my business!" Ozai jumped back in shock at Zhao's outburst, but the ghost continued his frightful wailing, shaking his chains as he did so. "Instead, I made _death_ my business!"

The specter sighed in defeat and dropped his chains. When he spoke again, his voice was calm again. And sad.

"I suffer most during this holiday season. In life I did not keep the joy of Spirits Day in my heart. I treated it as just another day for destroying my enemies. Why couldn't I have, for just one day each year, taken the time to celebrate the miracle of Spirits Day? I never even bothered to wish my crew a happy holiday. Instead I chastised them for wasting time and enjoying themselves.

"My time here is almost finished, Ozai. Please hear what I have to tell you. I have come here tonight to warn you, and to tell you that there may still be a chance for you to escape my fate."

When Ozai did not answer, the specter continued.

"You will be haunted by three spirits."

Ozai stared blankly at the ghost for a few moments before replying. "No thank you. I'm not really allowed visitors."

"Without them," Zhao went on, "you cannot hope to shun the path I tread. Expect the first tomorrow night, when the moon is at its zenith. The second shall appear at the same hour the next night, and the third on the night after that."

"Why don't they just all come at once so we can get it over with?"

Zhao's ghost continued, paying no attention to Ozai's remark.

"You will not see me again, Ozai. I hope, for your sake, that you remember what has happened between us tonight."

When he finished speaking, he floated slowly towards the far wall and beckoned for Ozai to follow him. Ozai did, and when he was a few paces away he began to hear horrible sounds. They were not quite human, but Ozai understood them none the less. The wails were filled with regret and sorrowful self-accusations. Ozai shrank back in terror, but Zhao's ghost grabbed hold of his arm and they began to float up to the high window. He tried to fight it at first, but curiosity overtook the fear and he dared to look out at the night sky. The air was filled with phantoms, all wearing chains like Zhao and moaning in misery. Ozai had known many of them when they were alive. One old ghost had been a good friend of his. It had a monstrous boulder attached to its ankle and was crying piteously while it looked upon a vision of a small houseful of orphans whimpering in sickness and hunger. Ozai knew the man's story. In life he was a powerful Fire Nation general who led an attack on a helpless Earth Kingdom town. Anyone who fought back or resisted was killed without mercy, and the children his ghost was now watching had all become orphans on the day of his raid. The misery within all of the specters was clear; they sought to repent for their past actions, or to interfere for human good, but had lost the power to do so forever. Zhao's ghost joined in the frightful wailing and he floated out the window into the bleak night, pulling his block of ice along with him. The frigid mist that hung in the air enshrouded the phantoms as their voices faded away.

As they did so, Ozai felt himself being lowered by an unseen force back to the ground, where he promptly fell to his knees. He crawled back to his sleeping mat and turned to look back at the window. From this vantage point he could not see the moon, meaning it hadn't yet reached its zenith. As he thought about the things he had just witnessed, he could feel the emotional exhaustion setting in. He tried to tell himself that it was just a crazy dream brought on by the rotten food his guards fed him, but he couldn't force himself to believe that. The food he was given wasn't much more than animal feed, but it was both nutritious and safe, Zuko saw to that. In the end, Ozai could not explain away what had happened, so he resigned himself to the fact that the events foretold by Zhao would begin in 24 hours time. With this, he collapsed onto his mat and instantly fell asleep.

**A/N: I wanted to add that I also do not own **_**A Christmas Carol**_** by Charles Dickens. For the next three chapters or so my story will follow Dickens' story quite closely. In fact, some of you may have noticed that I stole a few lines word for word. But don't worry! I'll try my best to make sure this story is exciting in its own right, especially for Avatar fans. If I'm failing at that you'll let me know, right?**

**This chapter was kind of hard to write. I wanted Ozai to remain as true to his character as possible, but still pay homage to Scrooge's character. And what do you all think of Zhao as Jacob Marley? Did it work for everyone? I know he was totally OOC, but he was supposed to be, sort of.**

**One more note, and I'll let you go so you can review (hint, hint). I took a big chunk out of this chapter because it was just getting way too long. Originally, I had Zhao actually tell Ozai the whole, detailed story about the Firebender he killed and what happened to the man's family after he died. It took on a life of its own and got a little out of control. And it wasn't really necessary, it was just was taking up space. But I thought it was pretty good and I couldn't bring myself to just delete it. So… I cut it and saved it as its own story. If anyone is interested in reading it, let me know and I'll post it as a one-shot or something. Thanks for reading!**


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